Brelia
by Skade
Summary: A lost love, a broken heart, a golden locket...
1. Prologue

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Prologue

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Author's notes: To save me from editing this story later, I hereby declare it takes place in Harry's 6th year. When book 6 comes out, it will officially become an AU. So there. Nyeah.

This is a story I am writing for myself, mainly, because this is a doggone stubborn plot bunny. Any whining about the plot will be, for the most part, ignored. There! Ha! I've said it!

Anyway... each chapter comes with a soundtrack (oo, ahh) which you can download from MP3 dot com. The Prologe's song is a nice one from Edgen Animations called "Fallen Legions" ...It will take you all of five minutes to find and download. Do so. Please?

Usual disclaimer: This is fanfic. I ain't gettin' rich off of it, 'cos I ain't Miz Rowling, y'all.

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It had been many, many decades ago, as Albus Dumbledore remembered - over a century, in fact, for he had been less than twenty that year. The collie dog had been his only pet and constant companion, a jovial soul set in a stout frame of fur and flesh.

It had also been the year the first motorcar had rumbled its way into the small country town. It would be many more years until the machines began to truly infest the countryside, but back then, a rich man showing off a new toy could speed down the dirt pathways as fast as he liked, heedless of anything in his path...

...Anything like little collie dogs. She had always been the sort of creature to run up to visitors barking happily; normally it wasn't a problem for carriage-horses knew where to put their feet and those on broomsticks even occasionally slipped her treats. But the motorcar was a cold creature of biting steel that placed its wheels dumbly, and the driver was looking away --

He heard the howl from inside, rushed out. The driver was already surveying the damage as he rushed over, stuttering numbly that there was nothing else to do but shoot his beloved pet out of mercy. He kept silent, as he remembered, any words seemed as if they couldn't have fit through his throat as it grew tighter and tighter.

But as he reached out his hand to his little collie dog, the one thing that truly stuck in his mind happened. Up until then, she had been sweet and gentle, never even bearing her teeth. However, wild with pain, she thrashed her head around and snapped hard at his hand.

And as fate dictated, history repeated itself.

Although, as Albus mused, it was somewhat different this time around. He surveyed the scene about him this time - a grey, dreary sky matched perfectly with the cemetery around him, cheerless to the point of lugubriousness. Then again, it was a funeral, and what could he expect - for things to be cheerful? He gave a small sigh, the other guests - friends and family of the deceased - shifted nervously. None of them knew quite what to do, but there was a pressing urgency to do _something_, and simply leaving would (according to some deep moral code) would be unseemly.

The grave was filled, the flowers placed just-so, the prayers said. That was not the problem. The problem was on the bench opposite the row of graves, hunched over in mourner's black, sobbing haplessly. The problem was the widower, and his name was Severus Snape.

One ignorant, well-meaning little old lady had already tried to wander over and give him some sort of consolation, but as soon as she uttered a few fatal phrases ... _we all know how you feel... we all share your pain..._ He whirled on her and launched into a wrathful tirade, tears in his eyes, about how _nobody_ knew how he felt, and _nobody_ would _ever _share his pain. The crowd now gave him a wide berth as he sobbed away, apparently unable to stop for grief.

Thrash, snap. Wild with pain.

Albus gave another small sigh, this time at the crowd's ignorance. At the moment he couldn't really blame the other man for his temper. He was the only one who knew the circumstances surrounding the affair. Dumbledore was the only one who knew that it was Snape's spy work that landed his wife into such trouble - for, after all, she was responsible for initially goading him into it. Voldemort had always seen her as trouble, and when an excuse came up to do away with her...

Well, when an excuse _came_...

They never found the body. The casket inside the grave was empty. That was another one of the secrets that Albus did not care to impart to the crowd.

Another sigh, he decided that enough was enough. He strolled forward to place a hand on the widower's shoulder as Snape continued to weep.

"Come, Severus. It's time to go." He made sure that his voice was firm enough to be commanding, but held no impatient snap or anger. Still, the other man flinched, and almost regretfully lurched to his feet, shaking with grief. He kept his head bowed, not wanting to let the crowd see his face as he turned and followed Dumbledore out, lagging a few paces behind. The others, relieved, scattered to return to the grinding mill of daily life.

And the slick granite called a message to their backs: _Ana Tanaquil Snape - Rest in Peace._


	2. Chapter One

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Chapter One

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Author's notes: There are two pieces of music for this chapter, both coming from the same MP3 dot com artist. "Silence Dark Song" and "From the Heart" by Helge Krabye - I promise the music will get happier as the fic does!

Usual disclaimer: This is fanfic. I ain't gettin' rich off of it, 'cos I ain't Miz Rowling, y'all.

---

It had been so many years...

She had started to count the days when she first saw the walls of her cell, crude chiseled marks for each slice of a sunset seen in her tiny window, confident it would be mere weeks before she would be out. In the end that plan failed, for with the first real torture session, she irrevocably lost count, days having passed while she laid there unconscious - and nobody would tell her just how many.

So she clung to her hope, and quietly forgot the supposed meaning of the marks on the wall. They would come for her, of course they would; they couldn't just forget... forget about her, as if she was dead...

And through the pain, there was one thing that helped her to keep her sanity. A golden locket around her neck, and the two rings - one, a wedding band, the other an engagement ring. Each night as the loneliness drummed into her with steely hard fists, she opened up the locket to stare at the picture - her only connection, now, to her dearest, her love, her _husband -_ and hugged it tightly against her chest, as if some wandless magic could carry the affection to him. She made sure the wedding band and engagement ring never left her finger, faithful as she was.

And then...

It stopped.

No longer did she have to cower every time someone walked in the doorway of the dungeons - because nobody did. The castle, apparently, became deserted - at least by her tormentors. The house-elves, however, stayed, and were lenient, feeding her more than bread and water, occasionally letting her roam the upper halls.

But most of all, letting her see the sun in all its glory again.

But now... now they had come back. Worse than ever. She wasn't alone in the dungeons sometimes, which was frightening - old Aurors groaning that they should have never gotten out of bed, terrified Ministry workers crying until they could cry no more, whomever the Dark Lord could snatch up and torture on a whim. Even the house-elves were fair game, especially with Nikken...

Ah, Nikken...

Nikken was the strangest house-elf she'd ever seen.

He had a slim, narrow face, with a pointed, short nose and small, beady brown eyes that gleamed maliciously. However, the queerest thing about him was the fact that he wore clothing, usually a small velvet jacket and ruffled white shirt, occasionally trousers if the mood struck him. That was the thing about Nikken: he was free, so he did not have a master. He figured this out very early on, and so first started demanding pay in clothes, then in finer luxuries, then finally in galleons, and if anyone topped his current working price, then Nikken was your man of the moment. A greedy turncoat, he defied everything she had learned about house-elves before.

She despised him.

Not just for that, but for the fact that every time he passed, his eyes opened a fraction and settled first on her rings - which still gleamed after so very, very many years. She immediately put a protective hand over them, and his gaze traveled to the locket, hungry and greedy, wanting each piece for his own. Numerous times he had taunted her with fine meals of veal stew and wine in exchange for just one ring... each time she refused.

They were simply too dear to her.

But tonight... tonight, thunder rumbled overhead, a storm hard upon them. Ana had curled miserably up against the bars of her cage, the heavy drops of rain splashing in her small window and soaking that end of her cell. She was the only one in the dungeons that night - the one old Auror having been taken out later that evening by a smirking, fair-haired man. Her stomach twisted; she hated to think where he was now.

She kept her eyes closed, listening to the storm... and then, a moment later, the sound of Nikken grumbling and grunting as he shoved open the door. Surprisingly, he didn't stop to pester her, instead continuing to mutter to himself as he shuffled past.

Mutter, mumble... "Bad, bad Master Snape... never treats Nikken right... always is so mean..."

She jerked her head up at the sound of the name, eyes flaring open wide as her heart jumped. It couldn't be - could it? _Could_ it?

"Always _kicks..._ always yells..."

She grabbed the locket around her neck, turning to face the house-elf as best she could. "Psst! Nikken! Nikken!"

He turned, in the middle of unhooking a rather nasty-looking apparatus from a far wall, to glare at her. "What does Miss Ana want?" he said sulkily, obviously not in the mood to deal with anyone.

"Nikken - come here," she beckoned.

Thinking it was some sort of trick, he let go of the iron chains he was holding and came a mere three steps closer to her, still glaring.

"Please, Nikken." She reached around with her other hand to undo the clasp of the locket, and the golden chain snaked off of her neck to dangle from her fist. Nikken's eyes grew wide in glee, and he came running, a greedy smile of delight crossing his face.

"What does Miss Ana want?" he said again, now in his prettiest, most soothing tones, batting his eyelashes at her.

She felt as if she could retch.

After a moment she took a deep breath and questioned, "There is - a Severus Snape here - right now - yes, Nikken?"

He nodded yes furiously, his paws reaching through the bars to slowly snatch at the dangling chain of the gold locket. She frowned, eyes narrowing, and held it away from him.

"Now - Nikken - I want you to take this to him. Take - this - to - him," she bit out, voice shaking. "Don't - don't just keep it. Master Snape is a very generous man... if you show this to him, he'll let you keep it... in fact, he'll even reward you."

Somehow, the glib lie did not hurt at all when she delivered it to Nikken. Eyes widening, he finally snatched the locket away, looking now like a good little schoolchild than a greedy pig. He bolted out of the dungeons, other task forgotten, wanting the locket and the reward that came with it.

And as Ana Snape watched him go, she bit her lip, quietly twisting the bars of her cell as her shoulders shook in mixed fear and terrible joy. After a moment, she slowly bent her head against the iron and began to cry. She did not know quite what for.


	3. Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

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Author's notes: Two songs yet again! They take very different tones, one is for the first half and the other the second. I suggest changing around the paragraph with the emphasis on the owl. That's where I did, at least. Again, an MP3 dot com artist, Paul Spaeth -- "Drowned Love" for the first and then "Brelia (The Wild Rose) Piano Verson" for the second. 

Usual disclaimer: This is fanfic. I ain't gettin' rich off of it, 'cos I ain't Miz Rowling, y'all.

---

Thunder rumbled.

The lightning flash that accompanied it was the only light in Severus' room save for a few feeble candles. Their light seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness. He didn't much mind.

He sat in a far chair, trying to rest although he was dressed. He knew that there would probably be a meeting of sorts later on that night, out on the wild and rugged moor that surrounded the castle, just so Voldemort could see them march around miserably in the rain.

For now he was comfortable, however... comfortable of sorts. The room was too big, too empty... it was nights like these when the emptiness pressed in around him and threatened to crush him.

With a shaky sigh, he sank deeper into the chair and closed his eyes.

A few moments later he awoke with a jerk at the sound of something sctatching at the door to his room. He had locked it - of course - but now something _desperately_ wanted to get in. He rose slowly, taking his wand firmly in one hand before walking over and opening the door to see --

"_Nikken!_" It was not a happy cry as Lucius or many other occupants greeted the house-elf with, but an angry hiss. Nikken had been bought out to foil Severus one too many times.

The house-elf's sugary-sweet voice interrupted whatever tirade was to come. "_Please_ don't be mean to poor, _poor_ Nikken," he cooed. "Nikken _has_ something for you. A _good_ something. A _lovely_ something."

Severus stepped back, raising an eyebrow as the house-elf groveled at his feet and tried to fish something out from around his frilly, minute belt. _This has to be a trick, _the Potions Master mused, glaring down at the house-elf as he quietly shut the door.

"See - see?" Frantically, Nikken produced the golden locket. "Isn't it -"

A clap of thunder interrupted him, and with it came the lightning. The little locket glimmered and sang out golden tones.

And all the memories attatched to the small thing came suddenly rushing back to Severus. He - he had given that locket to Ana - and she always wore it - he remembered - it had a picture of them in it... she never took it off... she _always_ wore it...

"Isn't it... a good...?" Nikken's voice wavered and then died upon seeing Severus' face.

By the time the rumble and the light had faded, Severus was in motion, lunging for Nikken to grab the house-elf by the neck and slam him against the closed door.

"_Where is she?_" His voice, somewhere between a dull roar and a venemous hiss, left no time for Nikken to answer as he asked again more forcefully: "_Where - IS - she?!"_

The house-elf spluttered and gasped, unable to breathe but still unwilling to give in with no promise of a reward. Severus' eyes narrowed, and after a few moments more he flung Nikken roughly to the floor.

"You _will_ take me to her." His voice was a firm command as he glared down, even though he was shaking now. Nikken glared back ruefully but said nothing, looking at the locket which was now clenched firmly in Severus' hand.

A few moments later, an owl flew out of a top window of the hulking, dark castle on the moor into the raging storm. It fumbled for a few feet before finding its path to fight against the storm.

It was heading south-west. To the south-west was Hogwarts, but few people knew that. One of the few who knew, however, looked out of the window at just the right minute to narrow his eyes and bite his lip and say, "My, that looks like Snape's owl..."

She lifted her head when she heard the footsteps. They didn't sound like the usual ones - belonging to perhaps a lackey, who bumbled down, or Nikken, who moved with light venemous grace. No... someone was in an extreme hurry to come down here. Two people... two people taking the steps, oh, two or three at a time, she mused to herself, and that was as far as she got before the door opened.

For a moment there was dead silence as they stared at one another. Neither had devoted much time to thinking of any witty rejoinder or sweet quote they could say for such an occasion as seeing your spouse whom you had thought dead - or worse.

There was silence. Severus gulped. Ana took a deep, shuddering breath, before inquiring in her smallest voice:

"Severus?"

"Ana?" he asked tremblingly back at her before rushing forward. "_Ana!_"

He collapsed to his knees as he reached her; somehow they managed to reach one another through the bars of the cell. After being able to feel one another and make sure that it all wasn't just a cruel illusion, Ana burst into sobs of joy, and Severus began to quietly weep. At that moment, it was all too overwhelming, and a few seconds later when Severus finally managed to gather his wits back together enough to fumblingly unlock the cell door with a spell, it was almost to much to bear.

He squished her intolerably hard in a hug, but she didn't seem to mind, too busy doing the same to him. There was a frantic flurry of kisses. Neither noticed Nikken's face souring, then the house-elf quietly sneaking out, a dirty plot on his mind.

As Ana finally relaxed into her husband's arms as she had longed to for so very, very long, he immediately began to quietly fuss, petting her bony shoulders and cheeks in almost disbelief. "Oh, Ana..." Even though most people would describe him as thin, compared to her, he was now almost portly. The fact that she had been starved for so long was evident.

She shook with sobs. "S-Severus --- w-we need to get out of here. How are we going to get out of h-here?" she pressed, rising up a bit to look into his eyes. Immediately he hugged her close in an effort to calm her down.

"Sssh, love." Ana snuggled up to him, closing her eyes at his reply. "It's all right. We just need to hold out a few hours - I sent an owl before I came down. Help's coming."

The soft murmur of his voice in her ear, his hands gently rubbing her back, and his warm arms wrapped around her made for a dangerous combination. With a sigh, Ana dozed a few minutes, feeling safe and content yet somehow giddy, as if she were dreaming.

A thought pierced her bubble and made her jerk up to glare at her husband. "Why are you _here_, anyway? If I find you've fallen in with _them_ again --" Her voice carried the clout of a threat delivered by a wife as her eyes narrowed. "Them" obviously did not need translating.

For once, Severus looked scared. "I promise - I _promise_, Ana, that's not why I'm here - it's a ruse," he said, almost begging for her to understand, looking at her face searchingly even though her eyes were focused at something beyond his back and widening in terror. He continued on heedlessly, pleadingly, as if explination would make her understand. "Like we planned - I'm just spying... just for Dumbledore..."

Ana suddenly gave a groan, starting to shake. "Oh, love. Oh, love, you shouldn't have said that." Her eyes were still focused in the distance, and he finally turned around.

He saw, there, a lynch mob, headed by Lucius Malfoy. All of them had narrowed eyes and wands trained on his back. All of them had just heard what was just said.

And at the door to the dungeons was Nikken. He began to laugh wildly.


End file.
